


otherside

by eganov



Series: Otherside [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bad feelings, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Cannabis and Lean/Purple Drank/Whatever, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, I don't know what I'm doing with my life anymore, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content, Withdrawal, concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eganov/pseuds/eganov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning of your problems starts when you almost drown as a result of a codeine overdose.<br/>(Your name is Eridan Ampora and you don't want to admit that you have a problem.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	otherside

  
_Thinking I would never do that, not that drug_  
_And growing up nobody ever does_  
_Until you're stuck_  
_Looking in the mirror like I can't believe what I've become_  
_Swore I was going to be someone_  
_And growing up everyone always does_  
_We sell our dreams and our potential_  
_To escape through that buzz_  
_Just keep me up, keep me up_  


_(Hollywood here we come)_

* * *

You smile.

Your vision spins---you drag your feet to the bathroom. You drank too much---You drank too much? What the fuck did you even drink. You drank---drank, drank, oh, shit, lean. Right. Lean. How much? How much. You don’t re m e m b e r.

You lick your lips, feeling the world haze around you. There was other shit you had too. Weed, right? Right. Shit. You go through your customs (same routine) and set the jukebox to play your personal favorites. The bass thrums, consumes you (engulfs you and leaves nothing left) and you sigh, feeling yourself vibrate in pure ecstasy (manic excitement) as you kneel---kneel, not stumble, not fall, or was that it? Did you fall? You’re not sure anymore.

But it’s alright, though, you’re lost in the buzz, the euphoria (the terror) and you’re fine. You’re perfectly fine.

You draw the bath. You strip down, leaving your shorts on. You leave them on because---well, because you can. You want to? You like it better. You’re not cleaning. You’re soaking. Yes. Soaking, soaking in the bass, the pleasure, the numbness, the haziness, the lack of recollection.

You can breath it in, after all.

You smile.

* * *

Your name is Eridan Ampora and the last thing you hear is a watery voice above your pleasant daze as Macklemore rolls up on your list and you feel like you’ve actually drowned, and yet you could care less.

* * *

She’s sobbing on you. You’re confused. He’s screaming at you. And the others look disappointed. You don’t understand why.

“Ampora, you stupid fucking shitstain, you didn’t have to fucking try kill yourself-”

“Kill? Myself? Are you--fuckin’ kiddin’ me-”

You never did what you did with the intention to die. Only to relax. To distract. To forget.

The last thing you remember was having drunk some (you don’t actually remember how much) lean. Nothing special. Nice little relaxant, not a problem, nothing out of your usual. You had felt dazed, the pleasant swath of sensation overcoming you as you turned on your personal playlist, deciding to light a joint. It was nice not to hate yourself. You enjoyed the sensation, enjoyed the muffling (stifling) of the painful edge of the world. You enjoyed how no one bothered you (you wanted them to care), how no one scorned you (but it hurt so bad), how you were left kindly and blissfully alone (they didn’t and would never care). There was a sense of flying (euphoria, invincibility but you were falling, so, so far), as you guided yourself to the ablution block--bathroom, now that you’re in this strange post-Sburb/Sgrub world, Beforus and Alternia and Earth all in one, it’s only bathroom--and drew a nice, blissfully (scaldingly) hot bath, settling into the water and feeling your skin tingle (burn) with a contented sigh. Your gills were sluggish to respond, and you choked for a moment, but then you allowed yourself to settle completely as they adjusted. They were working fine.

“How the fuck did you even manage to attempt to drown yourself, Eridan!”

She’s screaming at you and you don’t understand? You’re confused. Your head aches so badly. You don’t feel comfortable, and your body tingles in an unpleasant (suffocating) way. You swallow, and close your eyes, groaning.

“Why the fuck would I be tryin’ to kill myself, Peixes? Ewen if I wanted to, why the fuck do you care.”

“Because--” She chokes on her words, looking at a loss. “Because--”

“Stop ewen tryin’, for fucks sake. I ain’t fuckin’ in danger a’ dyin’. Just lemme go on my fuckin’ way, would you? I ain’t interferin’ in any of your liwes. You got no fuckin’ right in interferin’ in mine.”

“The doctorth--the doctorth thaid there wath a fuckton of Codeine in your thythtem. Your body forgot how to fucking breathe in the water and you fucking drowned.”

You blink at Sollux, mostly blearily with the intense desire to reclaim your glasses again, and you smack your lips (way too fucking dry for your comfort). You closed your eyes, and growled.

“Go the fuck away. Ain’t got any want to talk to you. Ain’t fuckin’ suicidal. Ain’t a fuckin’ flight risk. Go royally fuck yourselwes.”

“Rose found you, actually,” Karkat said after a few moments of suffocating silence. “She and the other humans and the rest of us are out. Eating and shit.”

“Don’ know why she ewen came ‘round. they should just stay out. Don’ need fuckin’ anyone, Wantas. I’m perfectly fuckin’ fine. Get your fuckin’ face out of my fuckin’ life.” But you would admit that some lean would be nice right now. “When the fuck can I get out.”

“Once you’ve cleared suicide watch,” Feferi says softly, and you’re angry.

“I am NOT fuckin’ SUICIDAL, for Chrissake! Get OUT!”

They leave.

* * *

But not as you wish they would.

When you’re finally released after firm assertions that you were not trying to kill yourself and passing a psych eval (you were livid at it but you kept your cool long enough), you felt uncomfortable in your own body and yearned almost desperately for another cup of your favorite cocktail. And to your greatest ire, Vantas and Captor are flanking you the moment you step out of the hospital.

“What the fuck is this.”

You do not sound amused.

“We want to make sure you’re alright, asshole,” Karkat hissed softly. “Take us to whatever shithole you live in.”

“An actual shithole, then,” You respond idly, irritably. “So long as you stay out of my fuckin’ way then maybe I’ll let you stick around for a while.”

****

When you get to your place, you’re so fucking ready for a cup and to kick back and listen to music. Though, you think you’ll steer clear of the bathtub while intoxicated, at least for a fair while until you can trust your bodily systems again. At least to satiate the two assholes who gape at your imperfect haven.

Frankly, you could care about the haphazard state; the walls, stained and dirty, the carpet scraggly and unattractive as ever, the occasional pizza and Chinese takeout box littered when you were too high to care. One or two beer cans lay visible in the ruin and you can’t bring yourself to care. Ashes are still strewn about even though you told yourself you’d make an effort to smoke more wisely. And still, you don’t care. You’ve got a somewhat working laptop on a desk in the corner of the room, next to the window, and an older model television you got from Craigslist that at least works a little, settled on a gaudy table in front of a sofa and a dirtied recliner. It’s small, it’s cramped, but it has been and only will be you yourself and wretched little you, and as a result you give not a single fuck of a fuck.

“Oh my fuck, ED,” Sollux gapes, and you sneer as you beeline to the kitchen, pulling out a styrofoam cup. Always keep to tradition, since you can always serve more. You open the freezer, and throw in the ice, pre-crushed. Crushed ice was the best for this. You knew this. You tried it all. You tried everything and you knew, from personal fucking experience.

“The fuck’s up with you. Get off your fuckin’ high horse, not eweryone can afford the fuckin’ lap of luxury.” Your chastising him makes your heart curl black and bitter with resentment and utmost irony. It should have been you living in the life of luxury. But since he’s the one on Feferi’s good side, it’s him. And you, her murderer, resigned here, even though you were sorry (and you apologized, even if it was when you had to share a life with one of the two douchebags currently keeping you on friend-run suicide watch).

You go to the fridge and pull out a Sprite bottle you’d bought earlier--nice, plentiful 2-liter. Popping it open, you pour out half of it into a pitcher that you keep around because hey, why waste good materials. Once it’s appropriately filled, you smile to yourself. You throw in the jolly ranchers, a nice grape flavor this time, that will your drink a little more purple. Karkat watches you in confusion, and his confusion seems to melt into chilling horror as you open the cabinet to reveal at least five bottles of your favorite ingredient--everyone’s favorite, of course--of lean. You grab a bottle, opening it cleanly, mechanically, and then pour it all in, watching as the colors swirl. You pick the bottle up, capping it, and shaking it until the colors settle on its signature purple. You smile to yourself, and with a drawn-out anticipation you pour it into your cup, before picking it up and take it all in in one single gulp. The flavor tingles at your tongue, a plethora of fuck yes to your deprived sensory nodes, and it chills and burns on the way down to your denied self. You begin preparing another serving when you feel your arm seized and you look over, frazzled, eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Karkat glancing at you with the most bewildered expression.

“What the fuck are you drinking, Ampora? Are you actually trying to kill yourself while we’re fucking here?” He asks. You look at him, shocked before you laugh. Openly, loudly, you laugh from the bottom of your belly, booming and surprisingly real.

“Oh my god, Kar, thats so fuckin’ cute of you,” You chuckle, wiping your eyes. “I ain’ killin’ myself. Shit’s called lean. Wanna hit it?”

He looks horrified at the prospect. “Oh, fuck no.”

You shrug to yourself. No skin off your bones. You open the fridge and leave both it and the bottle of drank inside until your first dose kicks in. Got a while to wait, after all. You decide to take care of things in the meanwhile. At least, though, the physical discomfort waned, knowing that you’re about to kick back and enjoy again.

“Ampora, theriouthly, the fuck wath it that you jutht drank?”

You snigger at your old friend’s idiocy. It’s kind of cute, how innocent they really are.

“You learn fast when you gotta get street smarts, kiddies,” You say, shuffling to the bedroom to seek out your weed. “I suggest you don’t come in here for about ten or twenty minutes.”

“What the hell are you going to do?”

You smile complacently. “Fixin’ myself up to set me straight after that hellish experience in the  hospital. An’ tryin’ to make this go as fuckin painless as possible ‘cause frankly I got no fuckin’ patience to deal with you.” You ignore that they follow you, and reach into the second drawer of your wardrobe, pulling out a blunt because boy, you fucking need it. You need it so fucking bad that you can’t even express it. You trod to your bed, plopping down on the half-broken sleeping mechanism, and you tug a lighter out from behind the pillow, holding the blunt as you roll it between your fingers over the flame to light it.

They don’t even interrupt you as you take the blunt to your mouth, puffing out and cupping your hand around the flame as you keep the lighter on, watching the smoke puff out around it. Once satisfied, you take a deep inhale, taste it, feel be burn go down to your lungs, and exhale out from your gills (more like letting the smoke drizzle from your gills like pieces of your fucking soul), feeling the delightful (disorienting) headiness overtake you. You repeat the process several more times, feeling the tingling relax you and you lay against the bed, feeling your vices cover you in a gentle blanket.

You’re still smoking, idly, letting your thoughts go free as someone grabs your arm. You smile a bit, eyes reddened as you look up half-lidded at a furious Captor.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snarls, but you can’t feel anything but calm. You blow some smoke in his face, and smile, big and wide and the time must have flown, and you wonder how long you were actually smoking because you start to feel the euphoria from the lean. You laugh, softly, folding your arms over your chest, closing your eyes as you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of flying (falling) and you bring the blunt to your lips again, inhaling deeply. You moan, pleasantly, and then look over as you’re tugged again, exhaling smoke through your gills. You blink, seeing Karkat standing there, and your vision is a bit fuzzy. You mess with the glasses on your face and still you can’t see him. You slowly snuggle into the bed, and you lick your lips as you feel the urge to get another cup of lean. So you do so, sliding your legs off the edge of the bed, and languidly slide to the door, dragging your feet as the room spins, only vaguely registering that you lightly pushed Karkat to the side. Sollux and Karkat merely watch as you make your way to the kitchen, and then are both alarmed as you pull out the cup. You sip it just as it’s seized and dragged away from you. Panic overtakes you and your eyes widened as you see the psionic energy holding it up.

“Sol---what the fuck--” You’re leaning up for it, frowning as the room continues to spin, trying to grab it. He doesn’t let it come within your reach. You’re actually climbing up on the counter (or trying to) and trying to reach it, before someone tugs at your shirt. You look back, red eyes finding Karkat. He looks concerned, he looks afraid, and your throat aches.

“Sollux, give it back,” Karkat says in a shaky voice. Your eyes turn to slits. “Just give it to him, please. Let him....-- Let him finish.”

“What the fuck KK why would I-” He looks at you, actually looks at you, and then you feel the gentle hum of psionics around you, guiding you onto the floor, and then you feel the cup settle in your shaking hands. You take a moment to calm down, feeling nauseous and itchy, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you take in as deep a breath as you possibly can. You shake, and pull the last of the blunt back to your lips, inhaling the last of it, a deep, rasping breath, feeling the smoke fill you, complete you, and as the smoke drizzle out of your wifebeater you sigh, exhaling your very soul. Your trembling slowly, painfully subsides as you take another small sip, tossing the roach off to the side (your house isn’t going to become somehow magically clean any time soon, so why do you care) and then open your eyes to give a placid look at Karkat. His eyes are unusually clear to you, and the soul-rendering self-hatred he bears almost hurts you too.

“You doing alright?” He asks in a quiet voice that in an unaltered state of mind would infuriate you.

“If I weren’t so fuckin’ high right now, I’d be pissed as hell,” You respond, idly, leaning back against the counters, only then realizing that Sollux had sit you down rather than stand you up. You blink, tiredly, and take another sip, feeling exhausted. Nonetheless, you manage a wide, dopey grin. “I’m guessin’ this was far from your expectations.”

He swallows. “I’m so fucking sorry, Eridan.”

You laugh gently, waving your hand. You pull yourself up, and stagger to the fridge. You pour yourself more. You add some ice. You drink. You finish. You serve more. Sollux and Karkat watch you, helpless. You don’t notice. You finally turn to them, swaying slightly, and manage to find purchase against the counter, slumping against it, still clutching the cup in your hand. “I’m liwin’.”

“No,” He replies, teary and painful, “No, you’re not living. You’re barely existing while using drugs as a fucking crutch. Eridan, please. Come with us.”

Sollux looks as though he shares his sentiments. You’re not really contemplating the consequences.

“Okay.”

You don’t know what you just fucking signed yourself up for.

You suppose you’re happy that they let you finish your cup.

 

It turns out that going with them meant being dragged to a group meeting with you as the star attendee. While you were still fucking high. They at least let you take your headset, which you suppose is a nice thing. The others are looking at you as if you were mad, and maybe you appear to be, what with your sitting right the fuck next to Karkat, your face squished into his shoulder. His ex-moirail looks envious, almost murderous of you but you don’t actually really notice it. You just stay in your own little world, smiling to yourself, because you’re still high as a fucking kite and you didn’t give a shit.

“Karkitty, why are we here now? I mean...especially with-”

“He’s a fucking addict.”

They stiffen; you don’t even realize that they were talking, absorbed by your music. You’re shaking, absorbed by the intensity of the bass as some music plays autonomously in your mind. Your headset is then rudely removed and you blink, your eyes still reddened. Feferi gasps at you and again, yet again you’re confused. You merely smile at her, the expression of exhaustion melting away as the pleasure washes over you again.

“Hi, Fef.” You wave, rocking a little, feeling a bit off your center; you’re too euphoric to care. Your body doesn’t really feel like it’s yours. You’re slowed down, breathing a bit more staggered, and thinking a bit more muddied. But you don’t care. You don’t care at all. “Hey--Hey Kar. Kar. Can we---go back to my shithole place? I wanna--get a li’l more--”

“We’re not getting anymore of your shitty drink, Eridan.”

You pout at him, and cross your arms as a wave of exhaustion and weariness washes over you. You find yourself struggling to blink, and stay awake, and you yawn loudly. “C’monnnn, Kar. S’my... S’my life, I jus’-- wanna. Li’l more to hold me.”

You’re humming more as you tip back, and blink, looking around as psionics catch you. “ ‘Sides. It--ain’ gonn’ kill me. S’only lean, man. Ya gotta-- gotta liwe it up a little. I’ll seriously let ya hit it if ya want. Jus’ say the words, man, an’ issall yours.”

You’re talking with your eyes closed and you’re leaning further back into the psionics until you find yourself pushed up, straight, and your eyes snap open, dizziness overtaking you. You feel a sudden nausea and you’re keeling over, coughing up whatever is left in your stomach. There’s a hand on your back and you groan miserably, head starting to throb.

“I--- Kar, ‘lease. I--I ain’ feelin’ too hot. I need--- just a li’l more. Jus’--- a li’l more.”

He looks at you and he seems to feel miserable. He looks at Sollux, who sighs heavily.

“Are you sure, KK.”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. Until he passes out just---give him what he fucking wants.”

You look up from the puddle of your own vomit, and you smile in relief as Sollux procures a familiar foam cup. You look down into it as you take it into shaking hands, seeing everything as it was supposed to be. You feel so relieved. You manage to sit up back on the edge of the couch you were seated on, and simply sip on it, slowly, measured, and you don’t register that anyone is staring at you until you open your eyes. You were leaning back into the couch, face flushed purple, and you blink slowly.

“What the hell’re you guys lookin’ at?”

You’re glad that Sollux gave you your headset back. You can’t wait long enough for the effects to kick in and almost sob in relief when they do. But its not much longer that you’re even conscious.

When Feferi shakes your shoulder, you don’t respond. You’re too buzzed, too exhausted to be roused from your well-earned rest.

* * *

You next wake and you’re laying down. You feel like hell on wheels. A blanket’s covering you and someone is purring next to you. You are--or rather were--purring along with them.

“Ampurra?”

You blink, really groggily, and shuffle as you look at her through painfully dry eyes.

“...Nep?”

She smiles at you in this really despondent way. She pats you on the head, and you groan miserably. Your head is killing you, pounding mercilessly. Your stomach feels like shit. You want something. Anything. Weed. Weed, you need--

“Please, Nep,” You rasp, painfully. “Need---need somethin’. Anythin’. W-weed. Lean. W-whatewer, jus-”

“I can’t do that, Eridan. Pawlux, Fefurri and Karkitty told me I can’t. And I wouldn’t evfur pawsess things like that, evfur!”

You snarl at her, fins flaring. “I sw-wear to God, Nep, I’ll fuckin’-”

“You’ll what, seadweller?” You chill, only the slightest, when a shadow settles over you---an eerily familiar shadow, and you groan.

“Zahhak.” You rub your head, curling your lip in distaste. You pull yourself into as graceful a ball as possible, and cradle your stomach. You feel like it’s going to melt through your fingers.

“She is right, despite your addiction addled brain telling you otherwise. The Heiress, Captor and Vantas are attempting to wean you and return you to health.”

You bare your teeth, moaning in agony as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I am the fuckin’ epitome of health you stupid, hulkin’ blue-blooded bastard, an’ I am not fuckin’ addicted. I just feel like shit, so fuckin’ either get me some fuckin’ lean or I’ll go an’ get it myself-”

“I don’t think you actually could, ED,” A wheezy voice cuts your words, and your blood chills. You glance at Sollux, seeing him looking at you over the edge of the couch. Nepeta and Equius both look at him, Nepeta pouting and Equius starting to sweat. You growl, low in your throat, and another tremor wracks your form.

“F--uck you, p-pissblood-” You snarl, baring your teeth even more, feeling nauseous and miserable. You sob, then, curling into a ball. “Can you just fuckin’---ahhhhh bring me home.”

Your stomach is ripping itself to shreds and you feel freezing and wet. You sob, and then you repeatedly bash your head into the table in front of you until you lose consciousness.

You miss the piteous glance you get from Sollux as he levitates your body off the couch.

* * *

The next time you wake up, you’re in a dark room, on a bare bed, and you feel like you’re dying.

“Real fuckin’ nice a’ you guys!” You shriek, your voice cracking. You sob, writhing on the mattress, and it occurs to you that you may actually, legitimately be dying. You feel bile bubbling up, rancid and burning in your throat, and you keel over the edge of the mattress, letting yourself fall vulnerable. You can’t discern anything---you feel like you’re dying jesus christ. “Lock me up like a fuckin’ dog and w-watch me fuckin’ die from solid shittons of motherfucking misery! Nice fuckin’ w-way to get rewenge you shitstains!”

They don’t answer you, and you scream.

God, you wish you were dead.

You can’t even escape.

* * *

The next god knows how long it is, it occurs to you that everything passes in lucid fever dreams, misery, and you bashing your face into walls until you’re certain you have a concussion and everything becomes worse. You can’t fall asleep. You can’t sleep. You hurt yourself until you pass out. Every fucking time, you wake up with your injuries tended to. You can vaguely remember when you were dealing with your self-induced concussion, the feeling of lips running over you and hissing and claws to keep you awake. You remember a dizzying pleasure and overwhelming need that momentarily obscured all the pain, all the suffering, though you can’t really pin what exactly it was. Everything is just so fuzzy. You awaken, feeling subdued, feeling miserable, nauseous, and everything makes you dizzy. Your throat hurts and fuck everything is stupid. You tremble, and squint as someone opens the door to your hellhole.

“Eridan?” The sweet, gentle voice belongs to Feferi. You whimper in the back of your throat, feeling miserable and gross. “How do you eel?”

“F-uc-k-” You groan, and your head is still pounding and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re familiar with the feeling you would say they’d stuffed cotton in your mouth while you were in suffering. “I feel like---shit.”

She coos gently at you, running her hand over your face and kissing your horns in an awfully pale way. You hiss, another tremor wracking your body. You feel nauseous, you feel gross, you feel like you’ve both been pailed silly and also like you’ve been beaten by Gamzee’s clubs. You feel like one giant bruise and one giant gaping wound. Your arms burn and sting.

Speaking of arms, Feferi runs her hands over your arms, and sighs sadly. “You’ve been scratching yourself again.”

“I can’t---remember, fuck.” You feel winded. This isn’t you. You’re convinced that you’re not this person, weak and miserable. You’re convinced that this is a dream. A big huge lucid dream. You feel tired. “Fef I’on’ feel so good.”

“Sleep,” She says softly, kissing at your horns again. You croon; it’s a very, very pale gesture. The way she touches your horns is not red in mannerisms at all. Feather light, comforting, supporting and very, ridiculously pale. You whine in the back of your throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling another tremor wrack you.

“I can’t ‘leep Fef, god, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna fuckin’-”

She pets you, even as your stomach flips and you sob, everything crusting. “You’ll be okay, Eridan. Just hold on.”

You’re definitely going to fucking die.

* * *

Your eyes open again and you feel really fucking gross now. You don’t remember passing out. There is no explanation for how gross you actually feel. Your head is still pounding, but at least the nausea is mostly gone. You exhale, painfully, blinking, crosseyed. The mattress depresses next to you and it only then occurs to you that someone sat next to you on the bed.

“Hello, Eridan,” The regal voice calls for you. Kanaya.

“Kan,” You croak. “I feel gross.”

“You look gross, as you so put it,” She responds. You’re still shaking, the shaking won’t stop. “Smell gross, too.”

“I feel like I’we explosiwely crapped myself,” You mutter.

“You did,” She responds, to your utmost chagrin. “Sollux cleaned up after you. Psionics do come in handy at times.”

You wrinkle your nose with a plain grimace. “Fuck.”

She slowly helps you sit up, and you feel achy, your legs shuffling uncomfortable, stiff, cramped. Your heart is still pounding, a chilling iciness clenching your chest and making your face tighten. You don’t know why it feels so painful, so terrible, and you whimper, hands moving to your arms again, claws sinking into your flesh---except there are no claws. You look down at your hands and your eyes widen in disbelief to see them filed down to the nubs of your fingertips.

“W-wha-”

“You were drawing blood too much. We had to have Equius restrain you as Tavros filed them down.”

You feel miserable.

“Who knows about how fuckin’ shitty I’we been for the past...?”

“Week. And everyone does, Eridan; Karkat and Sollux gathered us together and presented you to us while you were suffering from the effects of this abomination you call a drink,” She explains to you, speaking as though shes talking to a very young troll. It irritates you but when she mentions your favorite vice you perk.

“Drank?” You asked. “Is there any around--”

She slaps you. Quite literally slaps you and you’re reeling and then falling off of the bed. You groan, holding your head, and notice that oh, shit, it hurts to look at her because ow, she’s fucking glowing again. She calms herself down, and then briefly turns the glow off. She gets on her knees next to you and helps you stand, and your knees wobble under you. You lean on her, panting slightly because it’s actually very hard to stand.

“I’m---holy fuck. Kan, w-wait, I can’t-”

She helps you stumble out of the room, and you grimace as the light hits your eyes. You try to make your legs move as fluidly as Kanaya’s, but unfortunately they don’t seem to be responding. You’re half-dragged and half stumbling to the ablution block, and don’t notice whether or not there is anyone in the hallway as you make your graceful (read:pitiful as fuck) descent. She sits you on the toilet, and pulls out a familiar band.

“Feferi says that for baths--” She stumbles on the word, and it’s almost amusing to you, “--That as sea-dwellers it’s imperative for you to wear these...band-like items to prevent your gills from opening in the bath-water.”

You nod, slowly, smiling despite yourself at her consideration for your well-being, and she pulls out a band for your neck-gills, too.  She fastens the band around your torso, clasping it shut along your back and the weight of it against your chest makes you lose some of the breath in your lungs. You rasp, biting on your lip, yet you dismiss her concerns when she voices them. She settles the neck-band against your secondary gills, and then she draws the bath.

You lean back against the tank of the toilet you’re sitting on, and then find yourself jostled from your exhaustion as she lifts you up and sets you in the bath. You don’t even put up a fight, complacent and tired. Your head is supported on something that seems like a pillow--it’s absurd to you, but well, what are you going to do?--and your eyes flutter, closing.

You jump when water is poured on your head and you blink, your adipose eyelids having responded faster than your mind, shielding you from the soapy burn. You look at Kanaya, confused, and she gives you a sheepish look.

“I’m sorry, Eridan, I’m simply cleaning you as it seems you are a bit too exhausted to do it yourself.” She continues speaking as she runs a sponge over your legs, and your face flushes as you realize she probably already cleaned the rest of you.

“Oh, jeez,” You choke, “I’m fuckin’ sorry---fuck this is embarrassin’.”

“Don’t fret, Mr. Ampora,” She tutts kindly, “It is all of my volition that I am doing this. I wish to help you out of this tangled mess that addiction has gotten you into.”

You sneer, slightly, feeling the sleepiness starting to grasp at you with greedy, slippery fingers yet again. “Ain’ fuckin’ addicted, Kan.”

She purses her lips at you, and just sighs, rubbing her fingers between your horns, massaging your scalp. You moan, pleased, and lean back.

The greedy fingers pull you under.

* * *

The next time you awake--and you’re actually getting really irritated at all of these flashes of consciousness--you find Terezi watching you, brushing your hair to pass the time. You’re purring again.

“It seems you’re awake,” She muses, in the airy tone of hers that you’ve become accustomed to. It’s weird, still, to see her actually looking at you with actual eyes. You groan, eyebrows furrowing.

“No shit, sherlock,” You mumble. You still purr for her, though, and she just cackles.

“You seem to be getting better, Mr. Grapeberry!” She runs her fingers along the base of your horns, and you think that someone spilled the beans in that regards because shit, that area is so sensitive and it has you becoming jelly against her, your purring growing louder and your worries fading away. “You really rubbed Ms. Maryam the wrong way, I’ll have you know,” She goes on, waving her hands as she speaks in wild gestures and looking at the wall. The light is on, dimly so, and you’re not sure if that’s an improvement or if it’s contributing to the dull throbbing behind your eyes.

“Gee, I w-wonder how-w.” You don’t really feel like getting up.

“The whole ‘I’m not addicted’ claim is a bunch of shit, Ampora, so cut the crap and admit it already,” Terezi jabs, and you cringe. Oh, that. “You’ve been almost wholly unconscious for an extra week of going cold turkey on that drug of yours. Lean, was it? Did you know that it’s illegal to possess prescription drugs without an actual prescription?”

“I’d reitterate a prewious phrase a’ mine, Pyrope, but I think you get the point.”

She frowns at you, behind her red glasses, and sigh. “You don’t have to admit it to anyone except yourself, Ampora. That’s the only time that you could ever get better.”

* * *

You wake up for the last time in these little glimpses, and see Sollux sitting over you. He has the most piteous expression on his face, and it makes you flush a sweet purple.

“How are you?” He asks, slowly. Now that you’re there, sober, lucid, and sitting with him and not hating yourself immensely and blaming yourself, you remember sharing a body with him. Sharing a mind with him. You remember the despair and the pain and the misery and the feeling of loss. You remember everything about him, everything you would ever want to know and then some. You remember feelings. Your lips part for a moment, to speak, and then look up at the ceiling.

“Like my stomach’s gonna fuckin’ eat itself. How-w long’s’it been since I’we eaten?”

“A good two weekth. You weren’t awake long enough and whatever we did try to feed you ended up on the floor again.”

You remember smears of mustard yellow on your skin and your flush increases. “Uh. Did w-we. Do.”

“We fucked,” He responds, his face flushing a little more, eyebrows knitting together. You choke on your breath. “You were tho--fucking pitiful, lying there with a fucking concussion and thobbing and I jutht--You were thaying, “fuck me thol, oh, god, pleathe, fuck me and make it go away” and you couldn’t even thay pithhblood without thobbing and looking pitiful couldn’t fucking help mythelf. Even when going through withdrawal you have thome theriouth thtamina.”

“I sincerely hope I w-wasn’t talkin’ w-with a fuckin’ lithhhp or I might hawe to fuckin’ shoot myself,” You mock, though in a very lackluster way. He laughs, weakly.

“...You don’t have any idea how fucking pitiful you’ve become, you thtupid athhole. How thtupidly pitiful you’ve alwayth been, though I could never fucking thee it until I thaw-”

“Let’s not fuckin’ bring up unpleasant memories, bilgesucker,” You growl out, though you don’t have any enmity. Not for him. No matter how much you wish you could.

He smiles, sheepishly. “Tho what doeth thith make uth?”

“... I don’t know-w,” You say honestly. “Not sure how-w anyone could w-want me anyw-ways.”

“What the hell do you mean?” He’s slowly growing colder again, and you merely feel the familiar despair welling up within you again.

“You didn’t fuckin bother to look at me before you fucked me, huh.” You grin, bitterly, and pull your pants down, tracing the inside of your thighs where scars still lie. “Had a lot of time to think before I got a fuckin’ hobby.”

He looks pale, now. He looks angry. His eyes are sparking and then you find yourself pinned against the mattress that has been your hell-hole for two weeks.

He whispers warm, supporting words dripped in a furious venom against your neck as he slides into you, slick and stretching and painful, but its a good pain and you leave claw-marks in his back and a bite-mark on his neck that he couldn’t hope to hide. Regardless of the black edge to it all, he traces a heart against your hip when everything is stained a strange, earthy plum.

It’s a bit embarrassing that you limp into the main room with Sollux’s help, his arm around your neck, and Feferi beams at the two of you, holding Nepeta’s hand excitedly. You’re a bit confused at that, actually, but you decide not to think about it as Sollux helps you sit down.

“I, uh. I w-wanted to apologize,” You say after a few moments of silence. “That you had to see me like...that.”

“It certainly was not your brightest moment.” You flush up as Kanaya speaks, but the only tone in her voice is a morose timbre. You warble slightly, facial-fins tilting back slightly.

“So long as you’re over your fucking addiction, butt-munch--” Karkat adds on, lip curling in distaste as he spits the word ‘addiction’ as though its an unspeakable disease. Which you suppose, in a way, it kind of is.

“I w-was newer addicted, Kar, seriously, I didn’t hawe a fuckin’ problem,” You defend, bristling slightly. “The side-effects are a bitch an’ thats it. I can stop any time--”

“You have stopped, you humongous asshole, and you aren’t going to fucking start again!” Karkat snarls, angrily, also bristling as well. However, the both of you are sat the fuck down by Aradia, her psychic powers (and her Time powers) seizing you both in place.

“There is no reason to argue over this,” Aradia says in that calm way of hers, smiling gently. “Time will tell, Karkat; let him be. There’s no reason to aggravate anyone. Besides, Eridan looks very tired.”

You did actually feel tired, though, still woozy from the hellish week. Sollux and Feferi help you stand up. You allow them to help, and when Feferi traces a quaint little diamond against your shirt as she and Sollux lay you down in another room, one with sheets and all the proper amenities, you chirr at her, ear-fins waving at her in a boisterous manner. She smiles at you, waving her fins back, and you both exchange a pale dialogue before you allow yourself to fall asleep willingly and calmly.

* * *

You’ve been in this apartment for several weeks now, with the realization that it is actually the Sburb/Sgrub group meeting place. Everyone has a room; in fact, Sollux owns the whole building. There’s a joint account that everyone shares. Karkat is pale for Terezi, and Terezi is still black with Gamzee. Gamzee and Tavros settled on pale now, and Vriska has actually scored a pale quadrant with the other Thief, Meenah. Nepeta and Feferi are in the red and Aradia is pale with Sollux. Several times you peek around and see flushed snugglings, the most recurrent perpetrators being Meenah and Aranea, and, to your surprise, Equius and Karkat. Overall, it seems things are more or less fleshing out.

But then, of course, there’s your dancestor. You see him around sometimes, often quietly speaking with Kankri. You’re absolutely disgusted with him. You try to avoid him, until one day when you’re headed to the gathering room and Cronus stops you. Your ear-fins flare in warning, until he pulls out a painfully familiar cup. Your eyes widen, and your throat tightens as you see the familiar purple liquid inside. You look up at him.

“Like vwhat you see, chief?” He asks, chillingly, all shark-tooth grin. Your hands start to shake and all you can think is that you want it. You want it so bad. You look up at him, steeling your glance, and you hiss.

“What the fuck are you lookin’ for,” You ask, and you can’t help the way that your voice cracks, going dry.

“How ‘bout a night, chief?” He asks, idly, leaning against the wall, swishing the liquid around. You tremble, and you swallow once.

“Yeah, sure, w-whatewer, just-- please, hand it ower--”

You squawk indignantly when he tips it back, drinking all of it in one gulp and drops it on the floor. Your body chills as his smooth, nice-guy face twists into an ugly expression, black with contempt.

“How the fuck could you,” He asks, snarling, and storms up to you, grabbing you by the neck and slamming you up against the wall. Your eyes are wide, contracted as you look into his own rage-filled eyes. “Vwhen Kanny told me that his dancestor admitted his suspicions that you vwere still clingin’ onto the fucking idea that you could get some more of this poison, I didn’t fucking beliewve it. You didn’t evwen fucking smell it, you stupid arse. It vwas fucking grape juice vwith food coloring. Did you fucking think that I’d stoop to your lewvel, you pathetic piece of trash?”

Your stomach sinks painfully and you feel the tears rising.

“You vwere about to abandon evwerything that your fucking friends did for you, abandon your fucking quadrants, your fuckin lowved ones, things that I had to fucking vwork my fucking ass off for, you miserable shitstain!” You hiss as he tightens the hold on your throat, eyes burning with a caliginous kind of anger. “I hate you, so much, because you get evwerything serwved to you on a silwver platter and you still. Fuckin’. Throw it avway.”

He kisses you, all teeth and anger and hatred. You’re pretty okay with that.

Him hate-fucking you into the wall helps hide the sinking feeling of realization that they were right. And the realization of how fucking stupid you were, and how stupid you are. When you don’t show up for the movie, Karkat and Terezi seek you out and find you slumped against the wall, pants around your ankles, left soaking in yours and Cronus’ genetic material.

At first, Karkat looks betrayed, noticing the little styrofoam cup laying a little ways away.

“It w-was tinted grape juice an’ he drank it,” You sob to yourself, looking up at the ceiling, nook sore and bulge aching but the thing that hurts the most is the amount of self-hatred welling up all over again, ghostly remnants of a horribly dark time that led you into this path of self-destruction in the first place. “Cro, the fuckin’ bastard! He fuckin’ tricked me into seein’ it. You w-were right, Kar. Fuck, you w-were right.”

“...I’m assuming you and he-”

“That bastard shouldn’t hawe any right to call me kismesis,” You sniff indignantly, feeling an ugly contempt tainting every fibre in your being an all-consuming ebony.

They help you stumble into the bathroom; the moirails are replaced with Feferi, to whom you cling onto and sob, apologizing feverishly so as she helps you scrub yourself clean, keeping you from scraping your skin off.

* * *

It’s five days after that you walk out, free again. Sollux as your heart, Feferi as your diamond, Cronus as your spade.

Karkat comes with you to your home, and helps you pour out every bottle of you owned.

You're clean.

And with this knowledge, you gladly allow Sollux to pull you under the sheets, letting him press his lips against your gills.

Your name is Eridan Ampora and you have your life back.

* * *

_Oh girl, this boat is sinking,_  
_There's no sea left for me,_  
_And how the sky gets heavy_  
_When you are underneath it_  
_Oh I want to sail away from here_

(Macklemore - Otherside)

**Author's Note:**

> the result of listening to Otherside ft. Fences from Macklemore for about three days???? i have a problem and that is eridan abuse


End file.
